


Say You're Jealous

by Lexus (Beautiful_Ruin)



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Face Slapping, Jealous Villanelle, Top!Eve, Villanelle is soft and confused, starts off harsh and ends up sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:35:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25989043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beautiful_Ruin/pseuds/Lexus
Summary: Eve wants Villanelle to admit she’s jealous.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 28
Kudos: 128





	Say You're Jealous

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RunningandCrying](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunningandCrying/gifts).



Eve hears Villanelle growl. She second guesses herself that she hears Villanelle growl, but she hears it, and it’s a growl, and she’s especially sure about this when she looks at Villanelle and sees the narrowed eyes, furrowed brows and curled upper lip to go with the growl. She looks around, then, behind her and everywhere else, trying to see what’s made Villanelle growl like some kind of mama bear protecting her cubs, but she can’t see anything out of the ordinary. So she ignores it and returns to her conversation with the server.

The conversation has veered away from food and into French architecture, which Eve is more than happy to discuss with whomever she can. She’s headed into France on the train with Villanelle for a job, but Villanelle does not want to talk about French architecture, or France, or any architecture, or anything really that Eve wants to talk about.

A few minutes later she hears it again. Villanelle growls. “Okay, excuse me, what is the problem?” she finally asks, staring across the table.

Villanelle sneers as she looks at the server. “Quatrefoils, Eve? Really? This is what you want to talk about with this watered-down waiter? I have a hundred thousand topics that are much more interesting and fun to talk about. You do not need to talk to this... person.”

“Oh my God.” Eve realizes it and wonders how she didn’t see it sooner. “Are you jealous?”

“What?” Villanelle’s voice hits a very high pitch before she breaks into forced laughter. “Jealous over him? No thank you, you can keep him if you really want. I’m just much better company.”

Eve smiles apologetically as the server retreats and she turns fiery eyes on Villanelle, leaning forward until their faces are only a half metre or so apart. “No,” she says. “Jealous of _him_.” She’s really satisfied at the stunned look on Villanelle’s face and the slight pink tint that spreads over her cheeks. “You are. You’re being a jealous little bitch because you don’t have all my attention.”

Villanelle scoffs, nudged out of her stupor, and rolls her eyes. “I am not jealous, Eve.” She doesn’t bother to say she’s not a bitch.

“You’re fucking jealous,” Eve insists. “You’re writhing-in-your-seat jealous because I was talking to someone else for five minutes. Wow.”

Villanelle’s cheeks are still burning and Eve’s insistence makes it worse. “I was trying to help you, Eve. You did not understand how boring you were being and I was putting aside my own feelings in order to save you.”

Eve pauses for a split second and then laughs so loud everyone in the dining car turns to look at them. “So you’re not only jealous, you’re a liar, too?”

Villanelle’s heartbeat quickens. “Eve, stop.” It sounds a lot less angry than she’s going for.

Eve stands, towering over Villanelle for once. “Admit it.” Her voice is very loud. Everyone is still staring at them.

Villanelle clenches her jaw; shakes her head. She is not going to admit to being jealous over a member of the help. Even if Eve looming over her like the ghost of Christmas past is a little intimidating. And then before she even sees Eve’s hand move, it is clamped around her chin and squeezing her jaw so hard she can practically feel the transfer of skin cells and knows she will have a bruise.

Eve pries Villanelle’s mouth open just because she doesn’t feel like having it shut. “Admit it,” she says again, still loud.  
  
Villanelle tries to jerk her face away but Eve’s grip tightens and she’s not going anywhere. “What has gotten into you, Eve?” she whispers, trying to fluff up Eve’s guilty conscience by seeming unnerved. Well, she is unnerved, but not in the way she is projecting.

Eve smirks at her and finally lets go, enjoying the red marks along her jaw. “Nice try, but you forget how easy you are for me to see through. Get up.”

“What? I’m still eating.”

“Nope, you’re done. Get up, Villanelle.”

“Are you going to throw me off the train?” This is a side of Eve she has only seen hints of before. Apparently her jealousy ( _not_ jealousy!) has fed Eve’s monster a fucking filet mignon. She is not sure if she wants to get up.

Suddenly she is on her feet with Eve’s hands wrapped in the lapels of her jacket, and she stares down at Eve’s hands because this suit is Dries Van Noten; how can Eve possibly—“Ow!” She looks up, stunned. Eve has just _slapped_ her. She registers gasps sounding around the dining car and she stands there blinking at Eve while her face throbs, and for the first time in probably fifteen years, she doesn’t know what to do. What does Eve _want_? “What—”

Eve slaps her again. On the same side. Watches Villanelle’s eyes fill with tears. It’s probably more bullshit, but just in case, she strokes the reddened skin. She watches Villanelle’s eyelids flutter; feels Villanelle’s warm cheek press into her hand. She’ll let Villanelle speak if she tries again.

Villanelle feels a little lost, unsure of herself, not knowing whether to be excited at wherever Eve is leading, or to prepare for inevitable rejection. The touch is soft; soothing, and she doesn’t want it to end. She doesn’t question being in Eve’s thrall, not right now, because she can save that for another day. Right now Eve is touching her, and even if she’s confused about where this is going, she’s not confused about wanting Eve’s approval. She doesn’t want to be slapped again, she wants to be treasured. “What do you want, Eve?” she whispers, and her voice shakes.

Eve isn’t quite sure how Villanelle doesn’t know what she wants. “I want you to admit you were jealous,” she says, and she’s not whispering like Villanelle but she’s not as loud as she was before.

That’s it? That’s why Eve has slapped her, twice? Because she won’t admit to being jealous? “What will happen if I do?” Her voice still shakes. It is the least of her worries.

Eve isn’t used to this side of Villanelle, this unsure, vulnerable, completely human side. Actually, she’s not sure if she’s ever seen it at all. “Were you jealous?” And now, finally, she lets her voice drop to an intimate level.

Villanelle’s heart is trying to pound out of her chest and she can barely hear Eve over the rush of blood in her ears. She bites her lip, closes her eyes, and nods. Once. Just a slight tilt downward of her chin and then back up.

Eve revels in her victory. “Jealous of the help,” she says, running a fingernail down Villanelle’s red cheek. “You must think I belong to you.” Her hand drops down and closes around Villanelle’s throat. “I don’t.”

Eve isn’t cutting off any air, but the threat hangs between them. She could.

Eve grins, and she knows it’s more predatory than happy. “If anything, you’re mine.”

Villanelle shakes her head, just out of instinct, because she probably is Eve’s, if she’ll let herself consider the evidence. Eve is alive. That’s all the evidence needed, because Villanelle should have killed her long ago.

Eve slaps her again and she can’t take any more of that, not because it hurts but because Eve is _disappointed_ , and the humiliating tears that had sprung to life before are in her eyes again, and spilling over her cheeks. “Please don’t do that,” she breathes.

“I have to teach you a lesson,” Eve says, gently wiping away the tears with the back of one finger. “I have to show you that when you try to control me, you’ll always regret it.”

“I’m sorry,” Villanelle says instantly, if only it will make this tightness in her chest go away.

“Sorry is a good start but it’s not enough,” Eve says. “Do you really want forgiveness? Or are you just upset that I’ve upended the status quo?” Eve bets it’s the latter, even if Villanelle isn’t fully aware of that fact. Villanelle is very self-aware in a lot of areas, but there are some that she’s thrown up a brick wall that she can’t even get through herself.

“I know I don’t want you to hit me again, and I want you to smile at me,” Villanelle says, as honest as she knows how to be.

“Do you trust me? Will you trust me now?” Eve asks. “Right now?”

Five minutes ago Villanelle would have said yes without a second thought. But Eve’s unpredictability has somehow made her hesitant. Does she trust Eve? Yes. Does she trust Eve right now? She isn’t sure if she should. “Are you going to hurt me?”

Eve allows her this one small thing. “No.”

Villanelle lets out a breath. She hadn’t realized she was holding one in. “I will trust you.”

Eve takes a step closer. “Will you obey me?”

Villanelle’s stomach gives a devastating lurch and she stumbles even though she’s standing still. Her mouth hangs slightly open, just a breath of space between her parted lips, and she wonders if it’s possible for her eyes to catch fire. Eve wants her to obey. Can she do that? Will she do that? God, she has no idea.

Eve is patient with her this time and lets her think. She realizes she will miss this opportunity to be intimate with Eve if she is not willing to obey. She is used to being in charge but for Eve, she thinks she can make this concession, for a little while. “Okay,” she finally says.

“Say it,” Eve demands. “Tell me.”

Villanelle is wet. Her eyes flutter closed and back open. She stares at Eve, at beautiful, monstrous Eve with her beautiful, monstrous hair and her beautiful, monstrous ego. And then? She obeys. “I will obey you,” she whispers. Whatever happens, the look in Eve’s eyes when she says this is worth everything. The way Eve gently takes her hand is worth everything.

“Come with me.”

Villanelle follows. Eve leads her out of the dining car and into the car where they have their seats. They have good seats, but they don’t have a private car to themselves, and Villanelle really wishes she would have insisted on paying for the tickets herself so they could be traveling like the elite women they are. There aren’t that many people in their car, but Villanelle really wants to be alone with Eve. Whatever Eve’s plans are, she doubts Eve will proceed with other people nearby.

She is wrong.

Eve sits them in their seats and puts the armrest up so there’s nothing between them, then turns to face Villanelle. “Take off your boots and turn toward me, and get onto your knees, sitting back on your heels.”

Villanelle doesn’t really want to take her shoes off on a train, but she has said she will obey Eve, so she takes them off. Then she turns toward Eve and tucks her legs underneath her so she is on her knees, sitting on her heels.

Eve watches Villanelle comply and slowly slides her tongue across her bottom lip in anticipation. She reaches down with both hands and moves Villanelle’s knees apart a few inches. “Look down and memorize how far apart I have your knees.”

Villanelle’s face screws up in confusion but she looks down and studies the distance between her knees, placing it at approximately ten centimetres. “Ten centimetres,” she says aloud.

“Good. Now look at me.”

Villanelle looks up just as Eve slides a hand behind her neck and squeezes. Firm, but not rough. She likes the sensation.

“Are you paying attention? You don’t want to get this next one wrong.”

Villanelle nods. She is definitely paying attention.

“You are going to stand up, take your trousers off, lay them over the back of your seat, and then get back into this exact position. Do you understand?”

Villanelle’s breath rushes out and her cheeks go hot. “I’ll be in my jacket and knickers,” she says with wide eyes. She knows that Eve knows this, but she can’t help saying it because they’re on a _train_.

Eve just looks at her, waiting. She’s done enough bullying; now she will just wait, and see if Villanelle wants to go on this journey. If she wants it bad enough, she’ll take off her pants.

Villanelle is glad not to be slapped again, but Eve’s patient silence is not much better, because it means Eve will not try to force her, and if she proceeds, it will be of her own accord and she will not be able to blame Eve later for _making_ her do things. “I have a question,” she says quietly.

Eve nods. “Go ahead.”

“If I take my trousers off, are you going to embarrass me on purpose? Are you going to—” She stops and breathes out, in. “I am just wondering what your final objective is.” _Are you going to tease me and leave me begging for you after I’ve obeyed you and tried so hard to please you? Or are you going to touch me_? She wants so badly to ask these things but she can’t make herself do it because she’s afraid of the answers.

Eve feels bad for a second that Villanelle is afraid she’s going to humiliate her, because that is not Eve’s plan, at all. She squeezes Villanelle’s neck again, pressing in lightly with each finger one at a time after that, and then she shakes her head. “I’m not going to embarrass you on purpose, Villanelle. I want to teach you a lesson, not betray your trust or make you feel humiliated. You said that you trust me... is that not still true?” She knows she is the one person who can get under Villanelle’s skin, into Villanelle’s heart, and most of the time that goes to her head, but right now Villanelle’s fragility just makes her want to soothe it. “If you still let me have your trust, you won’t regret it.”

“Are you going to touch me?” The words are out in a rushed whisper and Villanelle closes her eyes, tight.

Eve waits until she opens her eyes, which is more than a few seconds, maybe almost a minute, but when Villanelle is looking at her, she answers. “Yes.”

Villanelle’s teeth grind and her hands ball into fists, but then she has to relax them if she wants to undo her pants. She doesn’t want to notice how badly her hands are shaking as she stands up and frees the button of her trousers and lowers the zipper. She closes her eyes as she takes her pants off just in case any random strangers happen to be walking by looking at her. It isn’t that she minds being in her knickers, it’s the _way_ everything is happening. She doesn’t want strangers seeing her so vulnerable, because the only person who is allowed to see that is Eve.

She has to open her eyes to drape the trousers over the back of her seat, so she does, and then she kneels on the padded bench and sits on her heels, looking down to shift her knees until they are just the way Eve had them before.

“That was _very_ good,” Eve says, and she knows her voice sounds like a lioness on the hunt, but honestly, that’s how she feels. It takes everything in her to go slow and not just pounce. She reaches a hand to stroke Villanelle’s cheek. “Does it still hurt?”

Villanelle tries to breathe when Eve praises her, because this is so much better than Eve being disappointed. She leans into the touch and nods. “A little, yes.”

Eve leans forward and kisses the lightly flushed skin. “I’m sorry I had to do that.”

Villanelle thinks that Eve didn’t _have_ to do it, but she doesn’t say that. “I will try not to make you want to do it again,” she says instead. It’s not that she wouldn’t let Eve hit her, she is as adventurous as they come, and she _likes_ hitting most of the time, and she knows that Eve knows this about her. It’s just that right now, after Paris, and the fact that they are on their way _back_ to France, she is craving so much approval that it’s eating her alive. She wants lo—passion. She wants Eve happy with her. She wants Eve to never want to take her life again, even for a moment, even if she regrets it the very second after and tries to save her. If Eve hurts her like that again, and she survives, she will be ruined.

When she looks up at Eve again, Eve kisses her. She melts into Eve’s mouth, forgetting that she’s on a train in her underwear, pushing aside her heartbreak over Paris, ignoring the slight sting that still graces her cheek. Eve is kissing her. On the mouth. And it is amazing. She hears herself moan as Eve deepens the kiss, Eve’s tongue slipping into her mouth, Eve’s hands running over her shoulders.

Eve loves how pliant Villanelle is being. If they had done this six months ago, she has no doubt that her tongue would already be bloody thanks to Villanelle’s wickedly perfect teeth. But this is soft, and Villanelle lets her lead. She likes it a lot.

When she pulls back she has to wipe a little saliva from her bottom lip, and even that makes her smile. “I want you to take your jacket off, but I’ll let you keep your blouse on,” she says, testing the waters. “I won’t ask you to take that off, at all.” Will Villanelle trust her?

Villanelle shivers but she unbuttons her jacket and slides it from her shoulders, turning to the left to drape it over her trousers, and then turns back to Eve. Her blouse is more like a sweater, and it covers her arms and stops at the hem of her knickers. It covers less than her jacket, of course, but Eve is looking at her with such appreciation that she finds she really doesn’t care. She has no idea if anyone is watching because she does not want to look at anything but Eve. “You are so beautiful,” she whispers, reaching across the small space between them to rest her hand on Eve’s leg.

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Eve says, but it’s not harsh, it’s gentle and teasing and she says it with a smile, and she lets Villanelle’s hand stay on her leg. “You’re beautiful, Villanelle,” she says in return, and Villanelle feels her cheeks getting hot again. “You’re exquisite.”

“Thank you, Eve,” she says, closing her eyes. She gasps and opens them quickly when she feels Eve’s fingers rubbing over her clit through her underwear. “Fuck,” she breathes.

“Jesus, Villanelle,” Eve says, eyes wide. “You’re a million degrees and soaking wet...”

Villanelle bites her lip and closes her eyes again with a quiet moan. She is too relieved to have Eve touching her to be embarrassed about how hot and wet she is between her legs. “I am always this way when I think of you, Eve,” she says, and it’s the truth. “I have wanted you to touch me for so long...”

Eve rubs circles over Villanelle’s clit, using the fabric to gain friction, and when Villanelle’s hips start to shift, she slows down and moves inside the expensive lace knickers. She wants them off, but she won’t do that to Villanelle. She moves two fingers down, groaning at the slickness that instantly coats them both, and she looks into Villanelle’s eyes as she pushes her fingers inside.

Villanelle isn’t sure if she can hold Eve’s gaze because her eyes really want to roll back in her head and her head really wants to drop backward because it feels so good. She loves Eve, she knows this, and that makes it so much better. “Oh,” she says when Eve starts to move. Her breaths are coming out as pants, shallow and rapid. She keeps her knees apart even though she wants to close them and trap Eve’s hand between her thighs forever.

Eve speeds up, moving her thumb to Villanelle’s clit, and she swallows Villanelle’s moans with kisses to keep things relatively quiet. Villanelle’s hips are pressing down now, and Eve presses back up, working into a rhythm, and when Villanelle starts to tighten, she backs off to trembling thighs, stroking Villanelle through her frustration.

Villanelle’s eyes shoot open when Eve withdraws, a whine loosed, and for a split second she doesn’t understand. When she catches on, her jaw drops and she thinks she might cry. “I don’t get to come? Is that the lesson you want to teach me?” she asks, valiantly fighting the tears. “It is our first time together, Eve. Please let me come...”

Eve keeps stroking her thighs and kisses her cheeks, her nose, the corner of her mouth. “I will,” Eve promises. “Just not yet. Be patient for me and learn your lesson, baby.”

Villanelle crumbles when Eve calls her baby. They had only ever said that in a teasing way when they were stealing from each other, but the way Eve says it now, she can tell it’s not teasing. Eve means it. And she just... crumbles. She will do anything for this woman. She needs to come, but she needs _Eve_ more. “I am learning,” she says, managing to keep the tears at bay. “I should never try to tell you who to talk to...”

“That’s good.” Eve purrs, pulling the crotch of Villanelle’s panties aside with her middle finger and stroking up and down with her thumb. “I wish you weren’t wearing these,” she says, because it’s the truth even if she won’t ask that of Villanelle.

“I will take them off for you, Eve,” Villanelle whispers desperately. “I want you to be happy with me.”

“I’m happy like this,” Eve assures her. “You can’t take them off here, we’d get arrested, but the offer is very tempting...” She kisses Villanelle again, tongue teasing and slipping inside her mouth just as two fingers push back into the warmth of her cunt. When the kiss ends, she puts her free hand over Villanelle’s mouth to keep her quiet. She wants to push this dangerous woman to her limits.

Villanelle’s hips rise and fall counterpoint to Eve’s slowly moving fingers, and then she feels a third push in alongside the first two and it stretches her. It doesn’t hurt but it almost does, and now she knows why Eve’s hand is over her mouth. She lets out a groan, muffled against Eve’s palm, and presses her hips down harder. She’s getting close, just a few more thrusts and she’ll crash.

Eve brings her right to the edge and backs off again, tightening her hand over Villanelle’s mouth at the keening cry that erupts. Her hand isn’t enough to stifle that and people will have heard it. And now Villanelle is actually crying, slumped against the seat, and it’s beautiful and messy and heartbreaking and thrilling. She takes her hand away to let Villanelle beg.

Villanelle has never been denied like this before and she doesn’t know how to make Eve give her what she needs, and she knows that crying over an orgasm is stupid but it’s so much more than that. “Eve, please,” she sobs, as quietly as she can. “Please, Eve, what do I have to do? I will do whatever you tell me to do, Eve, please...”

“There is nothing you can do but wait until I’m ready,” Eve says, brushing wisps of sweaty hair back from Villanelle’s forehead. “And then never try to control me again.”

“I won’t, I promise I won’t,” Villanelle begs. “I need you Eve, I love you, I’m sorry, I—”

“You’re trying to control me right now,” Eve points out, but her voice is soft. She’s not trying to be mean this time.

“No,” Villanelle cries, because that’s not what she means to do. “I am just lost, Eve...”

“You’re not lost, baby, you’re right here, with me, where you’re supposed to be. And I’ll take such good care of you when you stop trying to make me.”

It’s clear, then, and Villanelle finally understands. She stops wanting. Stops needing. Stops crying. If this is what Eve gives her, this is what she will have. She understands. Her body relaxes and she nods, leaning forward and putting her arms around Eve, letting her head rest on Eve’s chest. “Thank you for letting me be here with you; for being here with me,” she says after a moment.

Eve pets her head and kisses it, and she feels the moment when Villanelle surrenders. Truly surrenders, shedding her wants and needs, and Eve knows she won’t beg any more. _This_ is the moment she will give everything to Villanelle.

Villanelle is surprised when Eve’s fingers go back inside her, and an arm around her shoulders keeps her where she is, snuggled up to Eve’s chest. She breathes slow and even, staying in the moment and not getting ahead of herself, just enjoying the feelings as Eve gives them to her and not skipping ahead to desperation. She doesn’t even move her hips, she just allows Eve to control everything. This lesson has been very poignant and is one she will not forget.

Eve is going faster now, pushing harder, and then there are three fingers again and Villanelle groans. She is so full, and stretched, and fuck, it’s good, and then suddenly Eve is pressing against a certain spot inside her that makes everything twitch and she comes with a shriek, a strange sensation vibrating between her thighs, and Eve gasps.

Villanelle is too tight with pleasure to register any of it, her body shaking and clenching on Eve’s hand as little aftershocks rock through her. When she stops, she’s panting for breath.

Eve is stunned, because her hand is coated in sticky fluid, and she gently pulls her fingers out. Dazzled, she moves her hand to her mouth and takes an experimental lick. “Hmm. Sweet.” She holds her hand up to Villanelle’s mouth once Villanelle has calmed, but the calm shatters.

“What is _that_?” Villanelle asks in horror.

“Taste it. It’s good,” Eve says simply.

Villanelle stares. And stares. And finally pokes just the tip of her tongue out against Eve’s hand, and it’s not so bad. It is kind of sweet.

“I can’t believe I made you do that, baby,” Eve says, licking the rest from her hand with an indulgent purr. “Especially on our first time.”

Villanelle sulks.

Eve finally catches on that they aren’t on the same page about this. “Villanelle. It’s hot.”

Villanelle scrunches up her nose.

“It means you were really turned on and I gave you a shit ton of pleasure.”

“I am not a porn star, Eve,” Villanelle insists. “That kind of thing is for porn stars.”

Eve laughs and kisses her. “First of all, no it’s not, it’s for any woman who gets keyed up enough, and second of all, are you sure you’re not a porn star? You’re in a sweater and knickers on a train.”

Villanelle makes a choked sound of distress. “ _Eve_.” She feels less vulnerable now, more sure of herself, now that Eve is happy with her. “I am putting my trousers back on now.”

When Villanelle is dressed again and sitting a few feet away from her on the other side of the bench, Eve speaks. “Hey, Villanelle?”

Villanelle looks at her. “Yes?”

Eve extends a hand. “You don’t have to sit so far away.”

And just like that, things were back to normal, except better.


End file.
